If It Gives You Peace
by Eridel
Summary: An interesting little POV peice; it's pretty easy to tell who's talking. Warning! Character death! Rating for lauguage, some violence, and overall angstyness.


Notes: I've had this story up for a long time now, but I eventually looked back at it and found that I didn't really like the original version. So...enter If It Gives You Peace Version 2.0! Actually, it's just a revised version, but if you like the first one, you should at least skim through it, because there are some additions and changes. Nothing too drastic though. And a huge thank you to all those who reviewed me!   
  
If It Gives You Peace...  
  
Well, it's come down to this, hasn't it? Sitting on someone's kitchen floor with a stolen gun in my hand, trying to work up the courage to make up my mind. God, that sounds pathetic. So I'm a coward. I knew that already. Why else would I be here?  
I lift the small handgun from the ground; step one. It's sad, but if you tried, I wouldn't be surprised if you found a manual on this sort of thing. What a society we live in these days, ne? I press the cold muzzle against my temple; step two. There's the least amount of bone there, you know? The least chance to mess something up. That's why I wouldn't cut my wrist or hang myself; too large a margin of error.  
Alright then....  
Here goes nothing....  
I close my eyes as I prepare to pull the trigger. I've heard too many stories of someone's last sight being their own blood splattered across the wall. Not really something I look forward to. Seen too much of it in my lifetime already. My finger tenses slightly, but I can't actually squeeze the trigger. Why is this so hard?  
Maybe I should have a drink first....  
Damn coward....  
I sigh heavily, letting out the breath I didn't even know I'd been holding in. 'What's wrong now?' my mind jeers at me. I snicker. I didn't think that I even had a conscience, much less one that was all for suicide. It seems sort of backwards to me.  
Just think of it as another mission, all right? Another godforsaken mission where you screw Death over, save the day, and return to the land of the living in a golden chariot with the masses chanting your name. Almost like you're a god.  
But some people don't know how to take advantage of a good thing. Like that damned Heero, and his damned mechanical attitude towards...everything. To them he's the savior of the world, a fucking Jesus Christ. But what does he do? He tries to blow himself up, every chance he gets, not caring what it does to everyone else, what it does to me. Yeah, that's right. The great Duo Maxwell, the self-proclaimed god of Death, actually feels. I guess that's what happens when you fall, or in my case, rise, for someone.  
"Hn." The low grunt snaps me out of my musings, and I flinch. 'Damn,' I think. 'Speak of the angel'. My eyes open, and there you stand, leaning against the kitchen counter like a statue. 'Well,' my mind continues, 'he might as well be, for all the life he's ever shown.'  
Your mouth opens to say something. 'Oh no you don't,' I think angrily. "Stay back," I warn, standing up quickly. There's no way in hell you can stop this, Heero. Don't you dare pretend to be the white knight. You can't fool me anymore, 'cause I've seen your black wings. "Don't come any closer."  
You frown. Great, you're not going to listen, are you. You never were one for that, anyway. You step forward. "Duo, give me the gun."  
Same cold-hearted commands.  
Same icy glare.  
Same stone soul.  
Same Heero Yuy.  
Shit.  
Why couldn't you have changed?  
"Shut up!" I yell, swinging the gun up to point levelly at your chest. Both of my hands wrap around the handle, and I feel the cold ridges of metal press into my palms. You pause. Well, at least something got your attention. I glare back at you, staring straight into your eyes, willing you to understand.  
You shouldn't be here.  
You have no right to order me around.  
But why do you look so...sad?  
I blink. Sad? Where did that come from? Your eyes...they just...Damn it! Why do you have to be so confusing! "I need to do this!" I continue quickly, squeezing my eyes shut against your own.  
Go away...  
Let me do this.  
Please, Heero.  
Please...  
"Why?"  
My eyes snap open as the simple question scatters my thoughts. You still stand there, looking at me as if I'm some sort of code to be figured out. A puzzle. So I'm an object now, Heero? Well, if nothing else, I'm angry enough to meet your eyes again.  
"Why?" I repeat sarcastically, my voice oddly calm, besides the twitch of sarcasm. Strange, isn't it? I'm most composed in the middle of a battle. I chuckle slightly, but it's forced, unnatural. You can tell, can't you? I see one of your eyebrows rise a little in a silent question. My chuckle turns to a low growl. How dare you question me! "What does it matter to you? Why would I care if it did? Wake up, Heero. I don't belong to you. I don't have to give you my reason for anything!" 'How do you like that,' I think, panting slightly as I gauge your reaction.  
Aw, Heero...  
Don't look so surprised.  
You must have seen it coming.  
You're not that dense.  
But why do you look like I already pulled the trigger?  
"You can't stop this, Heero," I say quietly, giving you one more chance to turn around and leave. If you don't, well, Death will have an audience.  
But you don't leave.  
You step forward again, and suddenly, the muzzle of my gun is pressed to your heart. Do you have a heart, Heero? I could swear you don't. I wonder if you even bleed....  
"If it gives you peace, then go ahead and fire the damn gun," you say quietly, fiercely, your dark eyes boring into my soul. Well, if I had one, anyway. "But kill me instead, because if you kill yourself, then I swear that I'll be following right behind you. I'd rather face an eternity in hell than go back to who I used to be."  
You know, there was a time when that sort of thing would have had me in tears. Sweet words like that from you, I'd have done anything. But now....Sorry Heero. Too damn little too damn late, you know? No more wrapping me around your little finger and tearing my world apart.  
"If that's what you want," I answer quietly, my shoulders rising and falling slightly.  
I step forward, slowly, bending my arms to keep the gun between us. I breathe just as slow, letting the air slide across your skin as I tilt my head slightly, my lips so close to your own. You shiver, just barely, but I can feel it. It's strange, really, that someone who's always as empty as you are can be so responsive to something as insubstantial as a breath of air. But then again, I already knew that. I begin to follow the line of your jaw with my mouth, still breathing slowly, still not making any contact. If I do, I'll be lost. That's something else I know.  
I'm going to go insane, you know that Heero? You're driving me mad, making me lose control of myself just by existing. Not really sure what it is about you, either. Amazing, isn't it? It's been four years already, and I'm still as clueless as I was then. I laugh quietly, right next to your ear, and watch in bemused fascination as your dark hair ruffles a little, then lies still again. I pull back a little as I feel you swallow, and see you pull your lower lip in between your teeth, biting down slightly. You always used to do that when you were concentrating, I remember. Like that time in the hangar when you were working on Zero. I had walked in to see you hanging upside down with your knees hooked over a railing, trying to replace a damaged wire. You were chewing your lip then too.  
You're tense. I can see it in you, the way the veins stand out in your neck, the way your teeth press into your lip, the way your fingers twitch every so often as you try to keep your arms at your sides. Your eyes are darker than usual, and when I meet them with my own, I can almost feel it. Something almost tangible sliding through my veins and freezing my blood. I wonder if you have any idea how beautiful you are, Heero. Maybe that's what brought us together; we both think we're ugly. We're monsters, you and I. Demons pretending to be innocents pretending to be heroes even as we condemn our own souls with our own bloodstained hands.  
I stare right back into your eyes, and my lips curve up into something less than a smile, something empty and twisted. I see your own eyes widen a little. You know, you probably shouldn't have put your life in my hands right about now. Not the most brilliant move for a Perfect Soldier such as yourself.  
But then again, maybe you're not perfect.  
If you were, then we never could have been together.  
"Love ya," I whisper softly, and my fingers tighten around the trigger.  
  
Bang...  
  
It's strange how so much sound can come out of such a small package...  
I watch your eyes as you fall, see how they widen ever so slightly as the bullet rips its way through your chest, and then begin to close as you tilt backwards. Strange, though, there isn't any anger there. You just seem so calm, almost sad, as if sorry to go. Yeah, who's going to save the world now that you're gone, I think; and an empty chuckle slides past my lips.  
I kneel at your side, the gun hanging loosely in my hand. I cock my head to one side as bright red stains your shirt. Sort of fascinating, really. I guess you were human after all. Calmly, I watch as your chest rises and falls once more.  
"Thanks." The word ghosts past your lips, and I blink. Hadn't seen that coming. Maybe, you were serious? My breath catches in my throat and I scramble to my feet, backing away from your already limp form. I feel the cold weight of the gun in my hand and I fling it across the room, suddenly disgusted with myself. Blood stains my hands. Your blood. I killed you. You lie there so still because of me. Because I put a bullet through your heart. Great. Now I'm the bad guy.  
The room shimmers, its edges starting to blur suspiciously. Damn. Even when you're dead, you're messing with my world. My knees buckle beneath me, and all I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat echoing tauntingly in my mind. Ironic, you know? I live, and you die. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? God, you sure have a strange sense of humor.  
My head falls forward to rest in my hands, and my shoulders begin to shake. You know, I'm not even sure if I'm laughing or crying. Hysteria? Yeah, that sounds about right. Love and hate, all balanced out nicely in the end. Maybe when I can think again I'll figure it out. I pick myself up off the floor, and grab a beer from the kitchen counter. I'm holding myself together quite well, I think, as I walk over to where you still lay, and sit back down on the floor next to you. Snapping off the cap, I raise the bottle in a toast.  
Congratulations, Heero.  
You have driven Death insane. 


End file.
